


Enjolras' Lament

by chlorineandcoffeestains (AdrenalineRevolver)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 07:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/821560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdrenalineRevolver/pseuds/chlorineandcoffeestains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Please spell:  PANDEMONIUM.” </p>
<p>Enjolras just stared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enjolras' Lament

**Author's Note:**

> This is insired by Chips Lament from the 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee. Go listen to it first.

“Please spell: PANDEMONIUM.” 

Enjolras just stared. 

Silence. A minute crawled by before the thirteen year old remembered where he was. Enjolras came back to reality with a start. “Can you please repeat the word?” Snickers from the other competitors in the seventh grade spelling bee. It didn’t matter. He would win, just like last year. 

Only- last year there wasn’t a perfect boy with curly hair and a green hoodie in the front row with a good luck sign for his sister and a grin so wide when Enjolras met his eyes it hurt.

So he was gay. What a perfect time to figure it out. On stage.

Vice principal Javert coughed and repeated “PANDEMONIUM.”

Enjolras took a step toward the mic and made the mistake of looking at the boy again. “Can I have the definition please?” He knew the definition. Of course he knew the definition. He was last year’s champion. 

Javert raised an eyebrow. “Wild uproar or noise.” His tone made it clear that he knew Enjolras did not need the useless information.

But the boy in the front had turned to talk to a dark girl next to him, looking bored. “Can I have the origin of the word sir?”

His question was met with an eye roll and “You don’t need to -”

Fantine cut Javert off. “It was first coined by John Milton in Paradise Lost.” Enjolras liked Fantine. She had won the Spelling Bee once. Just like him. 

He had missed the answer to his question though. It was the boy in the fronts fault. Enjolras decided then and there that he would never hate anyone so much as he hated the distracting boy in the front row. It wasn’t as if the boy was causing a ruckus. He just smiled. It was enough.

Enjolras tried to focus on the word. The room was staring at him. The room including the boy in the green hoodie, in the front row, with the curly hair, and the smile. 

Deep breaths. It was only his second word. He could do it. Enjolras knew how to spell it. 

“P,” he said clearly into the mic. “A. N. D.” 

The boy in the front row was nodding along with the letters. When he saw Enjolras looking at him he smiled even wider. His hair flopped in his eyes and his poster was red. Enjolras wondered if he had broken his nose or was it normally just crooked.

“I.”

A sharp ding rang through the hall. No. No. No. No. No. He felt like a bucket of ice had been dumped on him. 

The red headed boy sipping on his orange juice book waved kindly at him. No. He hadn’t been good enough. He had failed. Last years champion defeated first. 

A security guard tugged on his arm, waiting to lead him off stage. Enjolras was frozen in shock though. The boy in the front row was still staring at him. Enjolras hated that boy. It was his distracting that had cost him the bee. 

He had over complicated things. If his parents didn’t love him after that, he would understand why. No one liked losers. He was a loser. Enjolras didn’t even realize he was in the front hall, outside of the bee, until his dad pulled him into a hug.

“Enjolras! We are so proud you made it this far!” His parents were beaming. Didn’t they get it. He had failed. He had lost. He wanted to cry alone and wallow in this failure. 

Instead his parents took him out for ice cream.

____

 

Grantaire was celebrating his 21 birthday by actually not drinking as much as he normally did. It was a shock to the whole party, especially Jehan, who kept shooting him worried looks. In reality he just wanted to enjoy the retirement of his fake I.D.’s and making it this far. He also wanted to remember it in the morning.

Feuilly slung an arm around him and raised a glass, shouting he drew the attention of half the pub. “TO GRANTAIRE!” The whole table drank, so did most of the other patrons. 

It was winding down when Grantaire got up to use the restroom, coming out of it he ran smack into another body heading in the opposite direction. 

“Oh sorry, I didn’t notice...” Grantaire steadied himself and looked at the speaker, the man’s arms were still holding him upright.   
“Yeah sure man, don’t worry about it.” He brushed off the help and stood. God the man was hot. Did he come here often? Grantaire came here often. This man needed to start so he could keep looking at him.

The man was also looking at Grantaire. At his hoodie, his crooked nose, his curls, his bright eyes....

“THE FUCK!” Grantaire wasn’t sure what happened but one moment he was looking into deep brown eyes and the next he was holding his bloody nose.

“That was for messing me up at my spelling bee 8 years ago.” The blonde looked both surprised with himself and righteously indignant.

“Your what?” He was getting blood on his hoodie and this man was obviously insane.

“The spelling bee. You sat in the front row and messed me up. You don’t remember?” Grantaire just looked at the man in confusion. “Sorry, I’ve been wanting to do that for years. This is going to sound crazy-”

At that Grantaire almost snorted. He settled on a bark like laugh. “Dude, you already are giving the crazy vibe.” He sounded nasally. 

“Thats irrelevant.” The blonde paused awkwardly, “do you want to go out sometime?”

Grantaire just shrugged. “I guess? Pass me a tissue will you?”

Forty minutes later Enjolras excitedly introduced a very awkward looking man in a bloody hoodie to Combeferre, who hung his head and sighed. Courfeyrac just looked at him incredulously. “You’ve gotta be joking.”

Three months, and one difficult trip to the ER later, Grantaire was still holding how they met (the second time) over his boyfriend and Enjolras was still working on making it up to him.


End file.
